


Watched by Darkness

by bornforwar_archivist



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2020-03-13 05:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornforwar_archivist/pseuds/bornforwar_archivist
Summary: By CarlyXena thinks she knows love, but she doesn’t even know who she is.





	Watched by Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Xena thinks she knows love, but she doesn’t even know who she is.

Few can recall the moment of their birth, but I remember that forest where I was found, fully-grown like Athena the warrior goddess. It was dark, and cold, and I was alone; that is what I remember.

 

Oh, and the night sky; it was clear, but on the horizon a fire burned.

 

He told me I was a survivor from a ship wrecked on the coast, that I had wandered in shock and grief from the shore into the depths of the woods. I should have died there; I should have been eaten by wild beasts, destroyed by the cold. I should have drowned. But Hrothgar rescued me from those fates, and, moreover, gave me a name. It was the name of the Celtic goddess of good fortune, for such I was, so he said.

 

I remember the day he led me into the palace. I was scratched, and brown, and I wore scraps of clothing. He saw only my beauty, but I saw that the servants were shocked at me. They whispered as I ascended the stairs after the king, and as they saw me, so their whispers grew, like the rustling of leaves when a flock of birds rises at dusk. Startled.

 

At the top of the stairs his sister waited, her hand firm on the banister. Her features sharp. She looked at me, then at her brother, and frowned. I saw her hand tighten its hold a little – and when Hrothgar opened his mouth to speak to her, she turned away, and disappeared into her room.

 

I looked so different from them. They had hair of fire or hair of ice, bright in such a cold land. The women were so soft, with smooth hands, slow movements. They wore long gowns with such grace, they walked quietly and they always waited a little before looking you in the eye. I startled them with my movements; I seemed abrupt and awkward to them. They liked the loud music, and the brightness of a hall filled with torchlight; I hesitated in the shadows, and my hair made the room a little darker.

 

I learned grace for him. I learned that he liked my voice to be softer and higher, so I tried my best to change it. Although I found the long dresses awkward, I wore what he liked in order to please him. I thought that was what love was.

 

I visited the stables once, and went to saddle up a dark brown mare, with a mane as black as night. But when I led the animal out, Hrothgar saw me and was horrified. Noble women did not ride horses, nor did they go out with their heads uncovered, and never did they leave the castle alone, he told me. I thought he told me these things because he cared about me; I thought he wanted these things for me because he loved me.

 

I could see that Hrothgar’s sister envied his throne, and I could also see that day by day he was changing, because of her. He had once been a man of action, who would risk anything to help his people; but now he preferred to hold great feasts in his castle, indifferent to the costs, and enjoy the pleasures of his position. I saw this, but I said nothing because I knew he would not like it; that was what I thought love was.

 

Once, when a lone bard sang instead of a hundred, and the candles burned low, there came a drowsiness over me that was like a vision. I saw myself, wild and free, riding out with my head bare and my hair flying out with the wind. I heard a strange cry and knew it was a cry of joy made by my own voice. When I looked, there a man watched me, and I was afraid, but he did not say a word against me. Instead, he looked upon me as I was and loved me.

 

Hrothgar begged me to marry me, for love and for his people. But each time I would begin to agree, something rose up from deep inside me, uttering an unequivocal nay. I did not understand what this was, but I wondered whether, in all my confusion, there was still part of me who knew who I was; a strength. It grew weaker, the longer I stayed with Hrothgar, until I aquiesced to his pleas, and promised to marry him.

 

As the day drew nearer for me to be married, the dreams and the visions appeared more and more often. They were blurred and unclear, and sometimes I dismissed them. But sometimes I saw a man who had hair just like mine, as dark as the shadows. I couldn’t understand why I preferred the darkness to the light, but in the dreams I did.

 

Did I say that I was born in a forest? Perhaps I was; but I was also born that day when a stranger called out my name into the crowd. Some kind of spell was broken with the utterance of my name; I saw visions of who I once had been. They startled me – when I looked up from the ring on my hand to Hrothgar’s face, I was afraid. I was offering myself to him, so willingly, like the gentle-eyed cow who had borne me to the altar. When Hrothgar killed it, the blood splashed over his hands, and his face, too, so that his beard dripped with it.

 

The stranger looked me in the eyes and said my name, again and again, while the visions forced themselves upon me. I was in a daze. The red of Hrothgar’s beard, the red of his sister’s hair! He reviled me, bare hours after he pledged his heart to me. My mind was all confusion, but my body knew who I was, and it was thus we escaped.

 

I thought he loved me, I said to the stranger. I was as restless as a child; I moved through the ship like a lost spirit. I hoped I would do good for his people, I said, knowing that Hrothgar would fall further and further under his sister’s spell, without me to guard against it. The stranger thrust a sword into my hand instead, as though the thought of blood was a comfort to me.

 

And it was not blood or a blade that awoke me, but a warm kiss. My other self, the light to my dark, the gentleness to my anger. Of course I was but half without her.

 

How did you survive, she asked me.

 

My will is stronger than I am, I told her, remembering all the times of enchantment, and madness, and darkness, where I had been near lost, but not quite. There is always some part of me that survives, I said, and that is my will. As pure as water, as strong as a blade. Some part of me knows my way even when my mind and heart do not –

 

We returned again to Hrothgar’s castle, once all had been done, and this time I knew enough to denounce his witch-sister, who had him under her spell, so that he could rule wisely. Beowulf welcomed him again as his brother, and I and Gabrielle as sisters.

 

That evening the freedom from the Grendel, and the freedom of the Lady of the Ring, were celebrated in great dance and feasting. I watched from the shadows, as I preferred, wearing my leathers and drinking of the mead I enjoyed.

 

Could you learn to love me, Horthgar asked, watching me as I was, as I preferred to be.

 

I’ve enough of learning, I told him, and then I smiled. I’m loved enough, I told him, and I went to Gabrielle and told her we were to return to Greece.

 

 

~*~*~*~


End file.
